


nineteenth october (2015 remix)

by snsk



Series: anniversary [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 19/10/15, CAN YOU BELIEVE, Fluff, M/M, Romance, anniversary fic, aww six years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Happy six years. Spork." He went back to pouring the Coca-Cola into their mugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nineteenth october (2015 remix)

jump into the heat/  
spinning on our feet  
in a technicolour beat 

The ride back to London was quiet. Dan, being asleep, was unable to contribute much to the noise, apart from the tinny faraway music still issuing from his earphones. Phil had started on Binge when they'd first set off, and now had the vaguely nauseous feeling one got in the pit of one's stomach when reading on long car rides. He put the book aside and yawned. 

Dan let out a tiny snuffling sound in answer, so Phil looked over at him. 

"What're you even listening to," he murmured, reaching over for Dan's phone to stop the music, because Dan would complain once they reached the flat and realised he was out of battery. And then he'd spend fifteen minutes fretfully digging through their bags for the charger, messing about and unpacking everything in the process. And in the end he wouldn't be able to find it. And he'd be hungry and irritable and travel-tired, and probably say something to set Phil off.

So Phil hit the pause button on Oh Wonder, since he could foresee this type of chain of events by now: it having been, after all, six years.

***

They'd spent weeks planning for five years', actually, but six years had sneaked itself up on them, what with the book and tour, the publicity stuff associated with said book'n'tour, and then various and assorted individual-and-joint thingies they'd had to do in between. A warm golden night in Greece a few weeks ago, and Dan had said, sleepily, curling himself around Phil as they reviewed the packed itinerary for the next couple of months, _this can be our anniversary getaway._

Phil had said, _Okay,_ amused, petting at his hair, because surely they wouldn't be too busy to have a nice _dinner._ But here they were, the morning and half the afternoon gone already, lugging their stuff up the stairs. Dan was tiredly fumbling for the right key, and as soon as he got in he announced that he was going to to bed.

"You just slept for three hours," Phil said.

"It's the jetlag," Dan said, waving a hand around, and once he'd unpacked the essentials he disappeared into Phil's room. Phil could hear him kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed. "You should sleep too!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Phil agreed. "Later." It wasn't that he begrudged Dan his rest; he could see the dark circles under his eyes and the yawny way he'd carried himself for the past couple of days. But by the time Dan woke up it would be dark already and time for the liveshow, and then where would their anniversary have gone? 

_Dan_ didn't seem to be plagued by that question; when Phil had cleaned up and brushed his teeth and gotten himself a hot chocolate and finally ventured into the room, he found him snoring and sprawled over the bedspread, not even changed and taking up Phil's side as well. He looked younger, somehow, and small - at least as small as his six foot frame could manage. He only snored when he was exhausted.

Phil, who wasn't tired in that too-tired way your body hit you with, had the sudden overwhelming urge to curl in beside him, to wrap him up in his arms and murmur to him that he really fucking loved him. The thought was ridiculous and cheesy the way Dan-and-Phil really weren't - most of the time, anyway. In any case, while Phil's brain was still puzzling out where that thought had come from, his feet were already padding their way over to the bed. 

"Move over, you're taking up too much space," he ordered, to make up for the cheesiness. Dan ignored him, so he shifted a leg out of the way. 

Up close, Dan's eyelids looked fragile, the shadows under his eyes bruised. His mouth was open and an arm was thrown up over his head. When Phil buried his face in the crook of his neck, he sighed and shifted slightly, a new position which meant he stopped snoring. 

"Fuck, I love you," Phil murmured, abruptly overcome by it. Breathing him in, holding him close, it didn't seem so - incredibly _dramatic,_ as Dan would put it. Dan and Phil, they didn't do dramatic. On their fifth anniversary dinner date, they'd alternated between North West's outfits and the correct name for the shade of purple of their waiter's tie. They discussed marriage and kids in the same tone of voice they used to talk about what was for lunch later. They rarely said _I love you_ \- it was easier to show it, in teasing grins and much exasperated rollings of eyes and fond knocks of the elbows. 

But right now, Dan was sleeping, so right now, Phil thought, very fiercely, this: that he _loved_ him, had loved him for six years and would love him for sixty more. He'd loved him at eighteen, twenty-two, twenty-four; would love him at eighty, would love him when they couldn't remember each other's names anymore. His memory would go, but this persistent devotion would remain, this tugging at the soul: _I am yours, for however long you'll have me._

***

When Phil next woke up, he woke up alone, well-rested,and nap-disoriented. He was vaguely aware, in that way one got, that it was dark; a shifting into night - or dusk, at least - had occurred during the nap. He wondered if he'd missed 7.30. He wondered if Dan had let him sleep and done the liveshow himself.

"Hey, man," Dan said, coming into the room. He'd showered and changed into his black manic-zippered jacket. He looked a lot refreshed and much better, and was in his favourite pair of Phil's socks, the Avengers ones.

"Don't call me _man,"_ Phil said automatically. Dan grinned at this.

"Shame we missed half the anniversary," he said, suddenly. 

Phil knew Dan better than to expect a _sorry for sleeping the day away -_ Dan wasn't the greatest at apologies at the best of times, and at any rate Phil didn't need one, not for Dan seeking out the little rest he was allowed. You took what you got, it was what it was, and they of all people knew it better than most. 

"It's alright," Phil said. "There's always next year." 

Dan turned to leave the room. "You've got fifteen minutes, BTW!" he called over his shoulder. "I'm starting with or without you. I'm telling them you were too lazy to come down and say hi."

He'd turned away too late to hide the full-blown grin on his face when Phil had said _next year._ It'd been a good try, though, Phil would give him that.

***

"Burgers," Phil said, and Dan made a noise of assent. They waved bye to the chat, which violently disagreed with this turn of events.

In the kitchen, Dan got out plates, and Phil put the frozen burgers into the microwave. Dan was humming along with his phone on the counter - if Phil concentrated, he could vaguely make out the words.

warm unalone/ come settle down, come settle down  
swing me your bones/  
come settle down 

He hadn't run out of battery, then. Which hadn't disgruntled him to the point of irritability. It was nice how things worked out.

"Friendiversary," Phil remarked. "That's a new one."

"What? Oh." Dan shook his head at the Coca-Cola bottle he'd procured from the fridge. "Well, they coined it. I went with it. Oh. Speaking of which. _Oh."_ He left the kitchen, but before Phil had time to register this sudden disappearance, he was back, and holding out a little plastic bag.

"Happy six years. Spork." He went back to pouring the Coca-Cola into their mugs.

Phil stood confusedly, the bag in his palm. "I didn't-"

"I know." They didn't get each other things, never had, not for this particular event. It was just each other's company, an unspoken agreement. "I just- I saw it at the souvenir place near the station. Stop _looking like that._ It's not a bomb."

"It's not a ring, is it?"

This startled a laugh out of Dan. "No. God. You're supposed to get _me_ that. I'm younger."

"That's not a valid-" started Phil, then stopped, because he'd shaken the bag out and tipped its contents into his palm. 

And it was just- you know, it was just a cheap keychain. A touristy thing. A tiny silver Manchester Eye, which glinted as it caught the kitchen light.

Phil couldn't breathe, just for a moment.

"You sap," he said, once he found his voice again.

Dan shrugged, like it was nothing, like he hadn't been watching Phil's face close, watching Phil's reaction. That sudden intense overwhelming feeling, again, that pull on Phil's heart- _I am yours, I am yours. I love you. I am yours._

"You're younger," Phil agreed, turning to the microwave as it beeped a loud cry for attention. He didn't turn away fast enough to miss the way Dan bit his lip, how he smiled down at their drinks.

***

In bed, in Phil's arms, sated and stretched-out and languid, one of Phil's favourite versions of him, Dan said: "It'll be better next year." He yawned again, a satisfied purr. "We'll go all out. Hire the fireworks. Explode a marching band."

"You're not making sense," said Phil, pressing a kiss to his sweaty hair. There were, of course, exceptions to the not-usually-affectionate rule: right after two rounds of _honestly_ amazing athletic sex was one of them.

"Yeah," Dan agreed, happily. "I'm glad this year was here though. Our house. Us. It wasn't very, you know, special. But I'm glad. I'm glad I'm here, I'm glad we're here. I love you. In case you haven't figured that out."

Phil hadn't considered this. He hadn't considered Dan looking at it that way.

"God," he said again, "I really, really love you, Dan Howell," and when he looked down at Dan, Dan was asleep for the third time that day, so he couldn't tease Phil about it, so that was okay.

and i feel life for the very first time  
\- love in my arms and the sun in my eyes  
i feel safe in the 5 am light 

***


End file.
